Meet Your Mate (A Good Riders Romance Book 1) (6 page)

He had his career and the freedom
to do what he wanted. He had his family in Nashville, a few good friends, lots
of fun-loving buddies, and plenty of fast, decorative women. He didn’t need
more than that.

The other kind of woman—Annabel’s
kind—took too much time, patience, and maintenance. In the end, the man’s heart
was smashed to pieces and his dreams lay in a pile of dust at his feet.

No good.
That may have been
his father’s path, but it wasn’t the route Max planned to take.

Instead of calling her, he went
inside to plug his phone into the charger, then snatched up the television
clicker to switch channels. Good, the top of the hour. Time for the next
SportsCenter
. He settled back to watch. But instead
of following yesterday’s baseball scores, his thoughts returned to Annabel.

He didn’t like her. She didn’t like
him. They had nothing in common. Simple, right? Except for a couple of hours
the night before, they had never done anything but rub each other the wrong
way. But the memory of those few hours when the rubbing had been in all the
right directions spurred his imagination.

His dick twitched at the thought of
what she could do with that attention to detail of hers if she turned it on
something besides work, duty, and strict adherence to the rules.

What the hell?
He’d be doing
the world a favor if he could get Miss Prim and Proper to loosen up a bit.

The feel of her head on his
shoulder, the warmth of her breath on his neck, and the weight of her breast
pressing against his arm at Music Hall had been hotter than the average lap
dance. And when her hand had brushed his groin in the dark, he’d responded with
as much enthusiasm as a kid sneaking a peek at his first centerfold. He’d been
hornier than a toad ever since.

Max shook his head. Damn, this
whole idea had disaster written all over it. He never put this much forethought
into anything besides his work. But in the end, lust won out over common sense.

With his hand on his cell, ready to
call her, his phone blew up with his father’s ringtone, the first few bars of a
George Strait song from the late eighties. It had been a family favorite ever
since his dad had picked up a gig playing guitar on the recording when the
regular Ace in the Hole picker needed an emergency appendectomy. Since Max’s
mom had left them earlier that same year, it provided his dad with a nice
distraction. And the money from the studio session had helped, too.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, Max,” he said in the rich
twang that could switch from rockabilly to a country ballad in a single chord.
“Got somebody who wants to talk to you.”

“Male or female?” Max headed into
the kitchen for another cup of coffee, needing possible fortification for the
conversation ahead.

“We got ourselves a baseball
situation here.”

Male, then. Good. Baseball
situations were easier for Max to deal with then a ballet or tea party drama
from one of his nieces.

“Hey,
Nath
,
what’s up?” he asked after his dad passed off the phone to his oldest nephew.
“Got a game today?”

“Yeah, Uncle Max.” Six-year-old
Nathan got right to the point. “My first real-pitch game. That’s a lot harder
than T-ball.”

“It is harder, but more fun too.
Just wait ‘til the first time you nail the ball and that sucker goes sailing.
There’s nothing like it.” Max smiled. Some of his best days had been spent on a
ball field.

“But what if I strike out?”

Max knew not to laugh. His nephew
took his baseball seriously. “Happens to the best of ‘
em
.”

“Did it happen to you?”

“More than half the time.”

“Will the other kids laugh?”

“Not unless they’re dumbasses.”
Damn, Ginger kept warning him not to cuss in front of the kids. They always
ended up ratting him out, too, when she asked them where they picked up a
particular term. “Don’t tell your mother I said that. Tell her I called them,
uh, buttheads.”

“I’ll tell her you said buttheads,
but some of them
are
dumbasses.”

Dumbasses abound, no matter what
your age, he wanted to tell the boy, but settled on more acceptable advice. “Well,
just watch the ball. If it’s over your head, don’t swing. If it’s below your
knees, don’t swing. When it’s right for you, between belt- and shoulder-high,
swing like the devil. You’ll make contact. Trust me. And good luck. You and
Grandpa should call me after the game to let me know how it went.”

“Will you come see me play?”

“Can’t today, Slugger, but I’ll get
the schedule from your mom and plan a date soon, okay? We’ll work on your swing
then.”

“Okay.”

“Let me talk to Grandpa again.”

“He’s here.”

“Good job, Max,” his dad said when
he took the phone back. “He’s been worried all week.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Max said, realizing
he didn’t say those words often enough. “Thanks for everything.” Thanks for
everything you did for me and the girls. Thanks for everything you do for your
grandchildren.

“Well, hey, whoa. That’s
unexpected, but
gotta
tell you, raising you and your
sisters, and now enjoying my grandchildren, has brought me more pleasure than
anything else in the world.”

“More than music?”

“It wasn’t like it was a choice.
Children grow up. Music will always be there. Music brings me joy and peace.
It’s part of my soul, part of who I am. But you, Ginger, and Courtney are my
heart.”

“What about our mother?”

A moment of silence separated them,
then he heard his dad sigh. “Son, I have to get this young’un to the ballpark.
We can have a philosophical discussion about life and love and women if you
want to, but do you want to have it right now? Is there
somethin
’
you’re
lookin
’ for exactly?”

Max scratched his head. He talked
easily with his dad about most things, but there were lines they usually didn’t
cross. Still he dived into this one. “I wonder if you have regrets about giving
up your music career to take a sensible nine-to-five job and help with homework
instead.”

“Best decision I ever made. When
your mother left us, it ‘bout broke my heart. Without the three of you, it’d
still be broke. You gave me three good reasons to get up every day and to keep
puttin
’ one foot in front of the other. And that’s the
plain truth.” His dad pulled the phone away from his mouth to issue Nathan
instructions about uniform, equipment, and water bottle. “Now, what’s this
about? Has a woman finally managed to tangle you up?”

“Nothing like that,” Max said too
quickly. “Just trying to make some career choices, wondering if you ever had
regrets about yours.”

“None you need worry about. Talk to
you later.” His dad chuckled. “And Max? Give the woman a chance, whoever she
is.”

If there were two things Max
trusted, they were his dad and his gut. And both of them were telling him to
give Annabel a call.

This time he didn’t hesitate. He
selected her number and waited as the phone rang. And rang.

On the verge of hanging up before
Annabel’s voicemail kicked in, a chirpy voice on the other end said, “Max?”

He recognized the teenybopper’s
youthful enthusiasm. “That’s right, kiddo. Is Annabel around?”

“I knew it! I knew you’d call,”
Carly crowed. “Annabel didn’t think you would, but when her phone rang, your
name flashed on the screen. I had to answer it even though she hasn’t been
downstairs yet. I think she’s still sleeping.” She dropped her voice on the
last word, as if sleeping late in their house was a secret. Or a crime. “Hang
on. I’ll take her the phone.”

While he waited, he pictured
Annabel draped across her bed, blond hair tousled, sheets in disarray.
Remembering the red lace bra, he tried to imagine what unexpected thing she
slept in. Probably something silky. Maybe something slinky. Definitely
something sheer.

Or better yet, nothing at all.

He stifled a groan. For God’s sake,
he’d need another shower if she didn’t hurry and pick up the damn phone.

“Max?” Her voice came over the
line, sleep-warmed and husky. Wary...  Sexy... Well worth the wait.

He had to clear his throat before
he could speak. “I thought you’d be up already.”

A noisy yawn answered him, followed
by the rustle of covers being arranged and pillows being plumped. “Why?”

He liked keeping her off-balance.
“Because I’ll be over in about an hour.”

“An hour?” she squeaked. “Why? What
time is it now?”

“I have a proposition for you. Do
you want to hear about it now or later?”

“Now, I guess.”

“Remember last night when I said
turnabout’s fair play?”

“No.”

“Sure you do,” he prompted. “It was
right before I kissed you. The first time. Not the second time, when we really
got into it with tongues and hips and—”

“All right, already! I remember.”

“Since I admitted I enjoyed myself
on the boring date of your choice, I think we should go someplace of my choice
today.”

“Well, that’s flattering,” she said
drily. “Why should I agree?”

“To prove to the television
audience that you’re as broad-minded and open to new experiences as I am.”

“I don’t have to prove anything.”

“Of course you don’t.” He switched
tactics. “But I also thought it would be a good comparison for us to make for
Tess’s show. You know, to see if we really are compatible.”

“You know we’re not.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t have
some fun together while we broaden our horizons, does it? Come on,” he cajoled.
“Just this one time. Let the real Annabel come out and play.”

Feeling her wavering, he forged
ahead. “We’re
wastin
’ daylight,
darlin
’.
Grab a bite to eat, drink plenty of liquids to get rid of whatever champagne
hangover you’ve got and put on some clothes, if you feel obliged to. I’ll be
there shortly.”

“Wait!” she said, and he did,
expecting another argument. “What should I wear?”

Gotcha.
“Black leather if
you have any.”

“Black leather?” She gulped. He
actually heard her gulp. “As in whips and chains?”

A grin spread across his face at the
note of panic in her voice. Sometimes having a bad reputation worked to his
advantage. People expected the worst, and anything less made him look like an
angel.

“Are you into that kinky stuff? I
can change our plans if you want.”

“No!” she croaked. “I mean, no.”
More throat clearing followed. “You’re kidding, right?  Of course, you’re
kidding. I’m sure whatever you have planned is fine. Um, Max?”

“Hmmm?”

“What exactly do you have planned?”

“Like last night, only one of us
will know until we walk out your door. Deal?”

Silent seconds ticked by.

“Just one more question.”

“Nope, this isn’t
Jeopardy
.
I’m all out of answers. You either want to go or you don’t. Try to decide
before I get there.”

Annabel’s eyes and temples pounded.
Her teeth and cheeks hurt. Even her hair. Stomach, toes. Everything.

She downed two aspirin with her
first cup of coffee, then tried to coax a slice of toast into settling easily
on her queasy tummy. She’d like nothing more than to crawl back under the
covers and coddle the first hangover of her life with the kid gloves it
deserved. But she wouldn’t put it past Max to come and pull her out of bed if
she weren’t ready and waiting when he arrived.

Taking her second cup of coffee out
on the deck, she cleared her head with deep breaths of fresh spring air. A
cheerful flat of pansies taunted her from the back steps. Gardening was one of
the many chores that would remain undone today since she’d agreed to go
somewhere with Max.

Somewhere with Max.
Yikes.
That
sounded both ominous and thrilling.

Where? And why?

Why had he asked? And more
importantly, why had she agreed?

Truth to tell, the butterflies
fluttering around in her stomach were as much from anxiety as too much
champagne. No telling what kind of activity Max considered
fun
. Probably
something she considered immoral, illegal, or improper. Although it was hard to
imagine anyone doing anything depraved on such a beautiful April morning.

She’d heard about Max’s wicked
reputation ever since he came to town. People at work said he led the pack at
trying any hare-brained stunt at least twice. And when it came to women,
apparently, he was the master of love ‘
em
, and leave
‘
em
. Mindy, one of the besotted admins at work
boasted that when he loved them, he left them smiling.

Of course, that wasn’t always true.

Annabel had heard
DeeDee
crying and throwing up in the restroom a few weeks
after Max glibly moved on to another victim. Poor deluded
DeeDee
defended Max instead of blaming him, but then she’d moved to Kansas before the
baby arrived. Making a fresh start, in a new job, in a new city, with a new
baby.
DeeDee
hadn’t managed to keep in contact with
Annabel beyond a few emails and texts. She got the feeling that
DeeDee
wanted to put Cincinnati and Max behind her.